So She said "What's the problem, baby?" "What's the problem, I don't know. Well, maybe I'm in love."
Just so we're clear, the headings of these little literary exploits only sometimes have bearing on what the actual content of the message is. This particular one does not.
Let's talk a little about the strange effects of guilt on morals and sex. I will be very clear here. I have never cheated. I have come infinitesimally close, but I have not crossed that particular line. At the time of toeing the line however, I was hurt and angry. I wanted to hurt the person I was with and I found myself at an ex's house. Very much unsupervised. It was Christmas eve, and I fell asleep in his arms. I'm not sure which was worse, the fact that we were still so comfortable we could easily curl up and sleep or the fact that in the heated moments that came before I cannot recall ever being more attracted to someone nor experiencing such a consuming desire. Every moral fiber I had was stretched to almost to snapping and the guilt did nothing to dissuade me but instead worked against my already screaming morals like a powerful aphrodisiac. The absolute sense that what I was feeling was wrong and the ridiculous need with which I struggled made every second an exquisite sort of tortured bliss. I knew I was unbearably close to breaking all of my rules and though I knew that if I did cheat, I would be very much like the person whose temperature was rising with mine, it didn't matter. The very person whose temperature was spiking with mine had cheated. On me. The moments in which I found out are etched endlessly into my mind. It's not a pain I can compare to anything, and it is the only time in my life where I could absolutely say that I was completely shattered. I had nightmares for months and during the next relationship I entered, my then-significant other spent most of his time putting me back together and trying to make me forget. I never really trusted him, but I'm not sure if that was a product of the cheating or just his nature in general.
And in the moments where I found myself in the same position as my unfaithful ex, what stopped us? Me. I stopped us. I did my best to shut down every nerve in my body and I gradually came out of the haze in which I had been lost. I pushed away the need and the awful, terrible, elegant desire that threatened to make me lose it. It wasn't because I didn't want to cross the line, but that the person I was dating could forgive me this particular transgression. I knew he could. I knew that he would understand. And I wanted very much to do something unforgivable. You never really know what evils you'll find inside yourself until the moment of crisis. I discovered that disturbingly, I could cheat. It just wasn't enough. There wasn't enough reason to it.
Since that time, I have never been tempted again. I know that I could cheat, but I simply won't. There isn't a reason to cause people unnecessary pain, and it' not something I enjoy doing.
I don't know if people can be so easily defined as good. If you like the feelings you have, but you hate them at the same time, what does it count as?
In this world the act of cheating is merely defined by the act of getting caught. It can be further clarified by confession. You only confess if you feel obligated to. So what about the moments in which you are so very very tempted but you don't? Is it really only cheating if you feel that somehow your morals have been compromised or is it just cheating if someone finds out?
I used to know these answers, I swear. I keep stopping the motion of these dominoes, but really I just want to escape this game.
I keep wondering, if you make the right decision for all the wrong reasons, does it still count?
Let's talk a little about the strange effects of guilt on morals and sex. I will be very clear here. I have never cheated. I have come infinitesimally close, but I have not crossed that particular line. At the time of toeing the line however, I was hurt and angry. I wanted to hurt the person I was with and I found myself at an ex's house. Very much unsupervised. It was Christmas eve, and I fell asleep in his arms. I'm not sure which was worse, the fact that we were still so comfortable we could easily curl up and sleep or the fact that in the heated moments that came before I cannot recall ever being more attracted to someone nor experiencing such a consuming desire. Every moral fiber I had was stretched to almost to snapping and the guilt did nothing to dissuade me but instead worked against my already screaming morals like a powerful aphrodisiac. The absolute sense that what I was feeling was wrong and the ridiculous need with which I struggled made every second an exquisite sort of tortured bliss. I knew I was unbearably close to breaking all of my rules and though I knew that if I did cheat, I would be very much like the person whose temperature was rising with mine, it didn't matter. The very person whose temperature was spiking with mine had cheated. On me. The moments in which I found out are etched endlessly into my mind. It's not a pain I can compare to anything, and it is the only time in my life where I could absolutely say that I was completely shattered. I had nightmares for months and during the next relationship I entered, my then-significant other spent most of his time putting me back together and trying to make me forget. I never really trusted him, but I'm not sure if that was a product of the cheating or just his nature in general.
And in the moments where I found myself in the same position as my unfaithful ex, what stopped us? Me. I stopped us. I did my best to shut down every nerve in my body and I gradually came out of the haze in which I had been lost. I pushed away the need and the awful, terrible, elegant desire that threatened to make me lose it. It wasn't because I didn't want to cross the line, but that the person I was dating could forgive me this particular transgression. I knew he could. I knew that he would understand. And I wanted very much to do something unforgivable. You never really know what evils you'll find inside yourself until the moment of crisis. I discovered that disturbingly, I could cheat. It just wasn't enough. There wasn't enough reason to it.
Since that time, I have never been tempted again. I know that I could cheat, but I simply won't. There isn't a reason to cause people unnecessary pain, and it' not something I enjoy doing.
I don't know if people can be so easily defined as good. If you like the feelings you have, but you hate them at the same time, what does it count as?
In this world the act of cheating is merely defined by the act of getting caught. It can be further clarified by confession. You only confess if you feel obligated to. So what about the moments in which you are so very very tempted but you don't? Is it really only cheating if you feel that somehow your morals have been compromised or is it just cheating if someone finds out?
I used to know these answers, I swear. I keep stopping the motion of these dominoes, but really I just want to escape this game.
I keep wondering, if you make the right decision for all the wrong reasons, does it still count?